


Catalyst

by NonsenseRequired



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2653934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonsenseRequired/pseuds/NonsenseRequired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vladimir, a vampire who has resisted the temptation of human blood, reaches his limit as a particularly enticing human winds up on his doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday fic for Marielita!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I've never written these two before so if I've mischaracterized them terribly, I apologize. There's a chance of this turning into a chapter fic (most likely with the rest being in Bulgaria's perspective) and if it does I'll have more of an opportunity to get their personalities right.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy! ^^

Their first encounter had been initiated through an act of desperation. Vladimir took pride in his self-control; he had been successful in staving off the urge to feed for longer than most could, however he—like any other vampire—only had so much restraint. The bone-crushing weariness had settled upon him sometime earlier that month and had refused to budge since. No amount of sleep alleviated it, but then again it wasn’t sleep that his body was yearning for. It had been far too long since he‘d indulged in human blood and still he abstained, reluctant to succumb to his body’s persistent complaining. But the sharp, fiery tingle in the back of his throat was undeniable, as was the painful ache of his muscles as they starved for the nourishment of another creature’s blood.

The sun had long since set, his dark living room illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlights reflecting off the snowy ground. He had lost track of how long he had been propped at the edge of his chair, elbows braced on his knees, adrenaline humming through his tired limbs as he stared blankly at a spot on the wall, willing his cravings away. He was unsuccessful, of course. If it were any other time of the year he’d be able to get by with picking off a stray animal of some sort. But this was the dead of winter, and anything living was already tucked away somewhere out of the cold and he didn’t have the energy to go searching.

His salvation—although he didn’t know it at the time—arrived in the form of a tentative knock at his door, causing him to raise his head from where he had dropped it into his hands, eyebrows arched. He slowly lifted himself from the armchair, his gaze fixed on the door as he made his caution approach. It was stupid of him to even consider investigating who was behind it, with his need for blood only increasing. But his curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself turning the cold knob and pulling it open, letting in a blast of icy air. He nearly staggered when he did, overwhelmed by the sudden, enticing scent of human blood merely feet away. It was enough to make his head whirl.

Before him stood a man just slightly taller than him, his dark hair wind-whipped and his cheeks tinged with pink from the wintery air, a black wool pea coat fitted to his body. He rocked back on his heels with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. He seemed hesitant, unsure of his presence, as if he were beginning to question his decision to even knock. Vladimir wouldn’t be surprised if he was, considering the fact he was at a stranger’s doorstep in the middle of the night, confronted by a man who surely looked half-dead with the dark shadows dusting his pallid skin. Still, he was met with a friendly—albeit nervous—smile.

“Hello. Sorry to bother you.” 

Vladimir returned the smile with tight lips, reluctant to speak as opening his mouth would only make the tantalizing scent that much worse.

Only slightly deterred by the lack of a reply the man continued with a sheepish look. “I, uh… I’m kind of lost. I’m supposed to be at my cousin’s but my train got in late and the taxis aren’t running with the roads in this condition… I don’t suppose you’d know which direction I have to walk to get to Alder Street?”

An unsuspecting human from out of town arriving at his doorstep with nobody else in sight—it was almost too easy. He dug his nails into the wood of the doorframe, his endurance wearing thin. He had been fearful of a situation like this, a circumstance where some catalyst in one form or another would come along and undo all of his careful willpower. This man was that catalyst, and Vladimir’s resolve shattered.

His fingers were clamped around the stranger’s upper arm before either of them knew what was happening. He was dragged inside and thrown up against the closed door, Vladimir flush against him with one hand pinning his wrists above his head, the other pressed over his mouth, his nose brushing the skin of his throat as he inhaled the scent that had so quickly broken his seemingly steadfast will. The man whined in fear and confusion, his green eyes wide, the color drained from his face. He struggled against the iron grip but Vladimir pressed into him, effectively stilling him as he snapped his gaze up for their eyes to meet, intense crimson boring into emerald.

“You will submit to me,” he growled, his dominant nature surfacing as instinct took over.

Vampire pheromones were powerful things; with the proximity of the two Vladimir could already see the green irises glazing over, feel the man’s muscles relax slightly as if he had been tranquilized. With his wrists still pinned together and his body responding to the sedating effects of Vladimir’s aura, it was all too easy to lead him along the dark hallway, pulling them both through his bedroom door and toeing it shut behind them, his hands still pinning the stranger’s wrists together.

They stumbled into the room, Vladimir peeling first the coat and then the slightly rumpled dress shirt from the man, tossing them both aside. Clothing on the upper body was a hassle when it came to feeding.

Being undressed seemed to awaken something within the man, and his eyes flashed with unbridled panic. “P-please, don’t hur—“

“Shh,” Vladimir interrupted, fixing him with an intense gaze. “The less you fight it the quicker this’ll be over with.”

Unshed tears glistened at the corners of his eyes but Vladimir paid them little attention as he pressed up against the man once more, pushing him back by the wrists until his legs hit the bed and he was forced to fall back onto the mattress. With his hands momentarily free he scrambled back until he bumped against the headboard.

Vladimir swiped his tongue across his teeth, the tender surface dragging along the twin pointed fangs that glittered dangerously in the light pouring in through the window from the street that served as their sole source of illumination. He perched at the foot of the bed, sitting back on his calves as he appraised the man strewn out on the pillows before him; rosy-faced and breathless, bare from the waist up, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly in his growing terror. It was tremendously gratifying. It had been far too long since he had felt this.

Vampires thrived on the distress of their victims, and Vladimir was no exception. Their fear was tangible to him; he could smell it, taste it. Its heady aroma was exhilarating. This sort of thrill was lost when he was forced to be subtle, the downfall to having settled in an urban area, forced to survive off scrawny street animals for sustenance. But then again his foolish conspicuity had been his downfall in the past. He wasn’t stupid, he learned from his mistakes. But the thrill of finally having another living being beneath him set his veins on fire.

He had been lucky in his find, too; this one offered little resistance, despite the fact that he had dragged the poor soul off the snow-covered street, fully expecting a fight. And of course he struggled in the beginning but by now the man had turned peculiarly submissive, and for that Vladimir was extremely appreciative. And equally rewarding—he treated the ones that played nice very well. Deliberately slowly he moved forward, unfurling from his position and slinking up the bedspread, his knees coming to settle on either side of the man’s hips.

“W-what—”

Vladimir shushed him quietly, reaching out to place a black-gloved finger over his lips. The man paled, dark eyes flickering between the hand near his face and back to Vladimir. “Hush.” His normally thin voice was low and gravelly, crimson eyes flashing dangerously, and a thrill of satisfaction ran through him at the sight of goosebumps rising noticeably on the man’s arms. “You don’t want to make this difficult, do you?”

He received a feeble whimper in reply.

“Good boy,” he crooned. He took his time in exploring the exposed chest, feeling the rise and fall as his hands glided downwards over the surface of his skin, his leather-clad fingers tracing every line and curve of muscle down to the hard angles of his bony hips. The man shuddered below him. He hadn’t really noticed it in his desperation to find a meal, but he found that he had chosen a rather nice-looking one. “What’s your name?” he purred.

“S-Sergei,” the man choked out.

He hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m Vladimir,” he ran his hands up that defined expanse of chest, tilting his body forward so his lips landed close to Sergei’s ear. He smirked, his voice dropping to a smoky whisper. “Let’s be friends.”

Another shudder.

His mouth began to wander, nearly brushing Sergei’s before straying to the side, ghosting over the flushed skin of his jaw and down the side of his neck, eliciting a hitched breath from the man beneath him. He paused at the hollow of his throat, his lips finally connecting to Sergei’s feverish skin in a chaste kiss that already had the man shamelessly craning his neck for more. Vladimir allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. And we’ve only just started… 

He smothered Sergei’s neck in kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, his ministrations growing more passionate with every touch of his lips, his tongue darting out in brief, provocative little swipes. He nipped and sucked at the goosebump-ridden skin, leaving dark, purpling marks and causing Sergei to keen wantonly. He writhed beneath him, sweat beading on his brow. It could be argued that a vampire’s course of action in feeding was inherently romantic; Vladimir disagreed. These things were intimate, and deserved to be treated as such, but his movements were not fueled by feelings of love. Lust, perhaps, but then again that was arguable, as it was not Sergei’s body that was Vladimir’s objective. Although to anyone else’s eyes their relationship could easily be misconstrued as one of lovers.

He gently grazed his teeth across the racing pulse point, directly above the vein that flowed thick with blood, eliciting a shiver from Sergei. He inhaled sharply. He could smell his prize, could hear the rushed rhythm of the frenzied pulse beneath pale skin, could feel his self-control dissolving as the impulse to feed overwhelmed him. He pressed one more kiss to Sergei’s throat before curling his lip back and sinking his teeth into the pale flesh.  
The fragile skin broke easily and rich blood flowed thick and hot over Vladimir’s tongue, filling the air with its peculiar and distinctive rust-and-iron scent. Sergei let out a breathy whine in response. He had instinctually begun to fight back, arching away from the bed defensively as Vladimir’s fangs drove deeper, but soon the sedative-like properties of the vampire’s potent saliva worked into his bloodstream, effectively converting his feelings of pain to those of dull, numbing pleasure. His eyes grew heavy-lidded, his breathing slightly labored. He reached up with both hands, one gripping Sergei’s jaw to tilt his head back further, the other grasping onto his bare shoulder as he greedily indulged in what he had denied himself for so long, vitality flowing through him with every drop of Sergei’s blood that he consumed. 

It didn’t take him long to feel sated; after scraping by for so long he had learned to survive on the bare minimum. Although by the time he finally drew back, running his tongue lightly across the two barely-visible puncture points and feeling more alive than he had in months, he feared that Sergei had suffered for it and wondered if he took more than he meant to. His face was paper-white, his breathing shaky and labored, his eyes mostly closed. His life wasn’t in any danger, that was certain, but a twinge of guilt tugged at Vladimir as he appraised the weak-looking man.

Now that he was coming down from his high and he could feel his animalistic side retreating, he dutifully dragged the blankets over Sergei who had already drifted out of consciousness, his gaze lingering on his sharp face. He released a sigh, settling back against the pillows to wait for morning. He wouldn’t sleep; it wasn’t a necessity, especially not right after he had fed. Besides, he had to be aware of when Sergei woke to ensure that he didn’t go blabbing to everyone and their mother about Vladimir’s secret. He folded his hands over his stomach, watching the fresh snowflakes that had begin to gently fall beyond the frosty window. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly to expect from the man come tomorrow; traditionally, a vampire would have a select few thralls to care for that they would feed from regularly. However, that practice had been all but abandoned in the modern day, and besides, Vladimir wouldn’t even know where to begin with bringing up the subject.

He supposed he could just hold Sergei here against his will, but that seemed like far too much effort. He supposed he would have to play it by ear when it came time to make a decision. Fortunately, that was many hours off, and for now he was content to rest against the pillows and listen to the soft breaths passing through Sergei’s lips.


End file.
